


The Kind of Love I've Been Dreaming Of

by MapleMooseMuffin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I actually don't know if these count entirely as drops they're real minor), (Shiro takes care of Keith tho so it's all good), (pretty minor tho and Keith takes care of him), Aftercare, Begging, Biting, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Dom Keith (Voltron), Dom/sub, Domdrop, First Time Domming, I mean technically there's a plot the plot is Shiro wants to get dicked down and Keith's a good bf, Keith's galra side comes out, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sub Shiro (Voltron), Subdrop, Top Keith (Voltron), but this is entirely porn, doms drop that's a thing, in reality they're both switches but not for this scene, is that a tag?, sorry friends idk how to tag this, why isn't that a tag guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMooseMuffin/pseuds/MapleMooseMuffin
Summary: Shiro’s dreamed and fantasized of being on the other side of things. Of being held down and forced to submit. There’s a fire in his veins whenever he thinks about it, and it grows and grows into a longing ache that’s just begging to be satisfied.He loves holding Keith down under his power, but he wants more.Keith is more than happy to indulge him.--In which Shiro finally gets to sub and Keith realizes how much he likes Domming.





	The Kind of Love I've Been Dreaming Of

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends.
> 
> Shiro deserves to get dicked down whenever he wants, my dudes. That and a particularly horny daydream are the sole inspirations of this impromptu smutlet. The title comes from Hozier's song Dinner & Diatribes.
> 
> Also, I fail to really mention but this takes place on the Atlas, and Keith's actions are somewhat Galra-instinct influenced.
> 
> I hope you enjoy~

           It takes a bit of experimentation to find a way that works for them. 

           It's easier when it’s Keith taking everything in. He can be held up against the wall, pinned down to the bed, tied or blindfolded or told to put on a show and settled in Shiro's lap, and he'll take it, expertly, with the same fire and lack of hesitation that he has when throwing himself into the pilot's chair.

           But Shiro’s dreamed and fantasized of being on the other side of things. Of being held down and forced to submit. There’s a fire in his veins whenever he thinks about it, and it grows and grows into a longing ache that’s just begging to be satisfied. 

           He loves holding Keith down under his power, but he wants more. 

           Keith is more than happy to indulge him.

           The problem is, as usual, life gets in the way. They're busy, but more than that, Shiro has limitations, no matter how hard he fights against them. Keith is strong enough to deadlift him, but not while also trying to screw his brains out, body shaking and weakened by the waves of his own pleasure. They ditch that plan fairly quickly, after a near fall and a narrow miss of an extremely embarrassing hospital visit. 

           They try riding next, which works well enough. At least Shiro's taking Keith down to the hilt and reveling in the feeling of being stretched by something more than fingers and toys. It's good – it's great, even – but there's still that ache for  _ more _ . A longing painful need to held down and made to feel the power he's seen lurking in Keith's narrow frame.

           A younger Shiro would have solved this easily. Begged Keith to tie him down and fuck him until he can barely breathe. But this Shiro's been through hell and back, and it didn't leave him unscathed.

           He knows without trying that being tied down is out of the question. He's fairly sure Keith would tell him no on principal if he asked, too. Keith's seen the way he reacts to having his arms restricted, and it's never pretty. Without that, though, it takes some fennangling to find a way to impose an illusion of control as strong as having one's hands tied above their head. 

           They try a few times with Shiro on his back, but as soon as Keith catches his eye, his smile breaks, and they end up lost in each other, rocking sweet and and tenderly together until their love spills over with a fierce kiss and heavy sighs. It's amazing, and beautiful, and still doesn't scratch the desperate itch building up inside him. Still isn't quite what Shiro craves.

           Keith is patient and understanding, though, and he’s the one who suggests one night they try it with Shiro faced the other way.

           “I was thinking,” he hums, arms wrapped around Shiro's waist as they stand, half undressing and half losing themselves to a slow and languid series of kisses, “if you were on your hands and knees, I could lean over you. It's not exactly pinning you down but it's closer, and you'd have to use your hands to hold you up, so you wouldn't be able to move them.”

           It sounds plausible, and if he's honest, Shiro can't even remember the last time he's tried that position. So they agree to try it out.

           When they first started this venture, when Shiro first mentioned he’d always wanted to try subbing but just never found the nerve, or the right person, or the time, Keith had been supportive if neutral to the idea. Holding Shiro in place and having his way with him wasn't exactly something he'd fantasized about, but he was comfortable with it, especially since Shiro seemed to really want this. They expected going into this that it would be more so for Shiro than Keith. 

           But something shifts, in the quiet after Shiro's been stretched open, after Keith's lubed himself up and is settled back on his haunches between Shiro's spread knees. Surveying for the moment. Shiro assumes he's planning his position – how to sit, where to put his hands, how to lean over Shiro to make him truly feel under his control. As he considers his options in the quiet space of their bedroom, Keith starts running his hands up the length of Shiro’s back. The soft, slow glide of skin against skin is both comforting and exciting, his nerves tingling at the pass of Keith’s fingers as he becomes more sensitive to his touch. At his shoulders, Keith settles to grip him firmly, shifting closer from behind and squeezing some of the day’s lingering tension out of Shiro’s muscles. It feels good. Shiro groans low at the sweet ache and feels the brush of Keith’s cock against his ass.

           “You like that?” Keith asks even as he lets go. His voice is lower than Shiro expected it to be, dropping down into a heady rumble that makes Shiro’s breath hitch. He’s not sure if it’s intentional, if Keith is even aware of the shift, but the idea that it’s happening naturally, involuntarily, sends another pulse of excitement through him.  

           Keith’s hips press flush against Shiro’s ass, still not entering him yet but rather sliding teasingly against him, a promise of what’s to come. Shiro wants to whine for it, but he can tell by the slow drift of Keith’s fingers back down his spine that Keith is still getting his bearings. It’s rare that Keith puts so much delicate, dedicated thought into something. He must be determined to get things right for Shiro’s sake. Shiro isn’t going to repay him by rushing him along. 

           The fingers sweep back up, a little faster this time, and round their way over his shoulders and back without stopping. On the return, Keith presses just a little harder and drags the blunt of his nails across Shiro’s skin, too. It makes him shiver, a low sound rolling out of his throat. Keith hums the same sound back to him.

           “You like that?” he asks again, and this time his voice is closer, the question breathed against the shell of Shiro’s ear as the warmth of his body envelops Shiro in rolling waves. He doesn’t wait for an answer before dragging his nails back up and pulling another sound from Shiro’s throat. 

           Keith’s cock twitches and catches against Shiro’s rim.

           “What if I do it again.” Keith’s voice is lower, airier, either meant to tease as he brushes his lips against the shell of his ear, or else already this affected from the simple sounds of Shiro moaning as he drags his fingernails against his skin and leaves long trailing marks in his wake “Harder.”

           They’ve talked about it before, agreed that it’d be fine, but he’s still asking just to be sure. Shiro nods, eager, and feels his breath catch as Keith rumbles out a low chuckle right against his ear.

           There’s a burst of white lightning up Shiro’s spine as Keith rakes his nails down. Shiro hisses, then moans. Keith’s nails catch at his hips and drag him back to grind against him.

           “ _ Hnnn, fuck  _ Shiro,” he moans in his ear. He sounds dark and wild. Predatory. “I want to do that again.”

           Shiro sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sighing, “ _ Please. _ ”

           Lines of fire are already burning down the first paths of Keith’s nails, searing into Shiro’s skin, hot and demanding. Shiro still feels the crescent press of those nails around the bones of his hips after Keith lets him go to trail his way back up his sides, featherlight touch soothing and teasing all at once. The flames are still licking down Shiro’s spine by the time he makes it back to the top.

           Keith digs his nails – claws, Shiro thinks – in and  _ growls _ as he rips them back down Shiro’s body. It’s an ice cold rush of pleasure that steals Shiro’s breath, ripping a gasp out of him before combusting into an overwhelming fire. Shiro’s left gaping, mouth wide to make room for the long, low moan that’s dragged from his throat as harshly as Keith drags him back to grind against.

           “ _ Mine _ ,” Keith growls in his ear.

           “Yours,” Shiro swears. “All yours.”

           “I’m gonna fuck you.” Like he didn’t already know. Like they didn’t mean for this happen. Still Shiro’s cock throbs at the raw power in that tone, in the grip on his hips, in the bite of those nails. 

           Claws. He can feel them digging in, and the fangs as Keith nips down his throat and settles in the delicate juncture to tug and nip and suck thick, blotchy marks Shiro will never be able to explain away. WIll never want to. 

           The blunt press of Keith’s cock against him comes with no warning. It catches Shiro off guard, surprising after the teasing and selfish grinding, and earns another hitching breath turned grunt. Keith doesn’t hesitate or wait for permission, already has it, and presses in. He drags Shiro back to steadily engulf him like he’s made for it. 

           It’s a long, hard stretch. Just shy of too much. Just what Shiro’s been aching for. Keith drags him back slow and constant until they’re flush together and Shiro’s run out of air in his lungs. 

           “Fuck,” Keith rumbles, somewhere between a breath, a word, and a growl. The claws dig sharper into Shiro’s flesh, and Shiro can just picture him, sharp canines burying themselves in his bottom lip, yellow tinged eyes hazy with pupils blown wide. If he turned around now he could see it, see the effect he has on the only person who can make him feel overpowered like this, the only person whose mercy he wants to be at. 

           But there’s something indescribably hot about not looking. Imagining he isn’t allowed to look. That he can only take what he’s given.

           Keith waits long enough to catch his own breath before moving. Shiro told him before he wanted things to be at Keith’s pace, and Keith’s doing his best to make this exactly the way Shiro wants it. There’s no waiting for Shiro to adjust, no slow thrusts to test his body’s give. Instead Keith rocks in hard and deep, forcing himself deep enough to squeeze the air out of Shiro’s lungs. He groans at the way Shiro tightens around him. 

           Then he picks up the pace, snapping his hips harder and faster until the headboard is tapping against the wall and Shiro’s knuckles are turning white where he grips the sheets. It’s rough enough to make Shiro grit his teeth and breathe through his nose, but the longer Keith fucks into him the more Shiro’s body gives way. Gives itself over to him until the molten heat of pleasure bleeds into each thrust. 

           Keith catches just the right angle and rips a gasped moan from Shiro’s throat. He rumbles a pleased sound and rolls his hips again to just miss it, laughing lightly at the disappointed sound Shiro makes. 

           “Gotta be patient,” he teases. His voice drops to something darker, “You gotta wait until I’m ready.”

           The blatant ownership has Shiro bucking his hips.

           Keith’s hand slips, nails catching on Shiro’s skin and scratching burning lines down the side of his hip. Shiro gasps and arches at the feeling, squeezing tight around Keith as his body is flooded with sharp pleasure.

           Keith digs his nails harder in his hips and yanks him back, breaking another moan free from Shiro’s throat.

           “Yeah?” Keith’s voice is a crackling fire, rough and gritty and full of sweet danger. “Is that what you want? Me to mark you up, bite and claw and claim you so good they’ll all know exactly who you belong to?”

           Shiro’s already begging before he finishes asking. “Fuck, please. Make me yours, I’m yours, God, feels so  _ good _ -” Keith angles his hips while he has Shiro pleading and drags his desperation out into a sudden moan with a perfectly aimed snap of the hips. 

           “Nnn, just like that, baby.” Keith presses himself tighter against Shiro, forcing more of his weight onto him and adding to the feeling of being pinned in place. Each hard snap of the hips comes faster, stronger, and Shiro barely has room to breathe between the increasingly louder sounds Keith fucks out of him. 

           He turns his head and bites into his organic arm to try and muffle himself at the same time that Keith latches onto his well abused throat for another unconcealable mark of ownership. The flesh between his teeth barely does anything to staunch the flow of desperate, overwhelmed sounds – he’s close already, dragged to the edge by the sheer ferocity Keith’s come at him with. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Keith throws himself completely into anything he loves, and Shiro has been at the top of that short list for nearly a decade. But Keith’s never mentioned wanting to take him like this – Shiro would  _ remember _ Keith saying he’d thought about holding Shiro down and seering his marks all across his skin. 

           There’s no way in hell he’s going to look this gift horse in the mouth, though. Especially not when that mouth nips along the edge of his ear again and a low voice growls, “Let them hear you, Takashi.”

           Keith’s claws dig into the skin of his arm as he tugs it away from Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s moan reverberates around the room.

           “Just like that. I want the whole ship to hear you, Takashi. Let them know how good I’m making you feel. Let them know who you belong too.”

           It’s too much, too good. Shiro’s gasping out louder and louder sounds as Keith growls in his ear and pounds into him from behind. He’s shaking, so close, so overwhelmed it’s an ecstatic bliss that takes over his mind, until there’s nothing but the sound and smell and feel of Keith, Keith, Keith. Shiro drops his forehead to the pillow and gives himself over to it, panting and moaning out Keith’s name loud enough to hear it bounced back at him off the walls. 

           “Good boy,” Keith praises as he weaves his fingers into Shiro’s hair and grips. Getting better purchase to hold Shiro down and make him take it. 

           Tears start to well up in Shiro’s eyes from how good it feels to be owned and used. 

           “Who do you belong to, Takashi?” Keith’s panting. He sounds just this side of manic, like he’s getting high off of having Shiro at his mercy.  _ God _ , Shiro hopes he is. 

           “You, I’m yours,” Shiro groans. Keith’s grip tightens in his hair and on his hips.

           “Louder,” he snarls. Shiro’s brain short circuits at the sound. Then his head is jerked back and tilted so he can catch a glimpse of Keith from the corner of his eye as he leans in. Keith slows his hips just enough to go harder, deeper, and flashes his sharp teeth. His eyes are narrow and burning yellow. “ _ Louder _ Takashi.”

           “ _ Fuck, _ I’m yours. Yours, Keith, yours yours yours.”

           Keith grins. “That’s right.”

           Shiro is so fucking gone.

           Keith lets him go to grab him by the hips and drag him back for every harsh thrust aimed right for his prostate. Shiro scrabbles for purchase in the sheets and gasps out at every thrust. 

           “Yours, yours, yours, yours, yours,”

           The more he says it, the harder Keith drives into him, moaning over Shiro’s head and digging his nails in like he’s anchoring himself. He has to be close. Shiro is so fucking close he’s crying now, the overwhelmed tears falling free as his head swims and his shouts trail up into whines at the ends. 

           Keith catches it and laughs something vicious and self-satisfied. “You close?” he asks, voice light and teasing. Like he’s surprised, like he doesn’t know how to read Shiro’s signs like the panels of every fighter in the hangar. 

           “ _ Fuck _ , please Keith, please please please,” Shiro whines. They never said he needed permission to come, but the idea of coming before Keith tells him to feels terribly  _ wrong _ . Shiro wants to be told, wants to hear Keith order him to let go, wants to paint his stomach on Keith’s command. 

           “Yeah, you wanna come for me? Want me to make you feel good?”

           “ _Please_ , please please please please, Keith please, tell me to come. I-I want, _fuck_ _please_ , I need,”

           Keith moans and drapes himself over Shiro’s back again. “Come on, then,” he growls against Shiro’s ear. “Be a good mate and come for me.”

           He sinks his teeth into Shiro’s shoulder one last time, and that’s it. Shiro gasps, arching up into the pain and the bliss. Then his voice breaks around the loudest, longest moan of the night as his body pulses, warm cum shot hard enough to splash against his collarbones. 

           Keith doesn't ease up in the slightest. Instead he's digging his nails into the soft skin of Shiro's hips and forcing him back to meet every pounding thrust, snapping his hips like he's trying to fuck a louder volume out of him, and it's working. With every slap of skin and every pulse of cum shot across Shiro's chest, his gasped moans come louder, until the sound of his own voice is echoing in his ears. His throat feels raw by the time Keith growls again, another wild animalistic sound that makes Shiro's spent cock throb weakly. 

           Keith drags him in close, shoving himself as deep as he'll go, and bites down hard enough that Shiro's sure this one must have broken skin. But his head’s still filled with dizzying fog, and all the stinging pain sparking through his nerves does is light a fire in his veins that his body can barely keep up with. 

           He is owned. Marked here at the neck and inside, as Keith pumps his seed into him, dragging his hips with every sudden hot pulse like he's trying to coat Shiro's insides. Leave no doubt of who he belongs to.

           Time slows down after Keith finishes. It drags out in a long stretching quiet, underlined with the pattern of their heavy breathing slowly easing back into something calmer. Keith eases his grip on Shiro’s hips in a careful conscious movement, easing his nails away from the skin and soothing pinprick marks with the pads of his fingers. 

           It’s several minutes before he pulls out. Shiro misses him the moment he moves away. But Keith keeps a hand on his back to maintain some point of contact as he tenderly shushes Shiro’s pitiful whine.

           “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” Keith promises. His voice his rasping but gentle. Shiro shifts and catches him looking down at him with loving eyes. 

           It’s enough for Shiro to collapse on his side and stretch his arms out to pull Keith down against him. Keith is warm as he wraps his arms around him and buries his head in his shoulder.

           “Fuck,” Shiro breathes in his ear. Keith chuckles and hugs him tighter. 

           “Was it good?”

           Shiro shivers and turns his head to kiss Keith’s neck. “Amazing.”

           Keith sighs and curls closer. “I’m glad,” he tells Shiro’s shoulder. 

           “‘M not really back yet,” Shiro admits.

           “Yeah, me too. ‘S okay. We can just cuddle.”

           Shiro hums, satisfied with that. He settles into Keith’s warmth and lets himself slowly drift back to his senses.

           It comes in pieces. Their breaths even out into something quiet and relaxed. The sweat cools on their bodies until Shiro starts to shiver, and Keith lets go of him long enough to drag the comforter over the both of them. It’s warm and plush and makes Shiro want to burrow up against Keith, so he does. Keith starts to slowly stroke his hair. 

           Shiro isn’t sure if he drifts off like that or not. It doesn’t really matter. When he becomes more aware of himself, Keith is still curled up tight against him, eyes still impossibly soft and touch still so gentle.

           He notices Shiro shift and smiles, small and tender. “Hi there.”

           Shiro gives him a tiny smile too. “Hi.”

           “How you doing?”

           He takes a moment to take stock. He’s warm. He feels safe. There’s more clarity in his head now that he’s had time to cool down. He nods. “I’m alright. I’m back now.”

           Keith nods too and sweeps Shiro’s bangs off his forehead. “Nothing hurts?”

           There are some aches. His neck especially thrums with a subtle soreness that he expects to feel for a while. His hips sting a bit, too, but it’s nothing he feels concerned about. Par for the course. A badge of honor, almost. 

           But Shiro’s also aware enough to catch the way Keith’s eyes are fixed just below his jaw, on the littering of marks he pressed to Shiro’s skin. There’s a tiny anxiety lurking there, an almost guilty expression Keith’s trying to hide. 

           Shiro takes Keith’s hand and brings slender fingers up to trace where he feels the soreness most. “Nothing I don’t like,” he murmurs. 

           Keith flicks his gaze to meet Shiro’s and then back to where his fingers trace the bruises he left on his skin. “You sure? It- It looks pretty bad.” He bites his lip and looks for a moment like he’s going to beg for forgiveness. 

           Shiro squeezes his hand. “I  _ promise _ .” Keith’s eyes dart back to his at the earnesty of his words. Shiro smiles wide and nuzzles closer, rubbing their noses together until Keith smiles too. “I like being yours.”

           Keith flushes and ducks his head, squeezing Shiro’s hand even as he tries to bury his face. “I- I didn’t expect that to… Didn’t think I’d…”

           Shiro gives him a long moment to try and find his words before offering, “Didn’t think you’d be so into being the Dom?”

           Keith makes a soft sound and nods. When he peeks up through his bangs he looks shy, but the guilty light has faded away. Shiro kisses his forehead. 

           “You were so good,” he sighs. Keith snickers.

           “Aren’t I supposed to tell you that?”

           “God, I’d love it if you would,” Shiro sighs. Keith lifts his head and runs a hand through Shiro’s hair again. “You’re allowed to hear it, too, though.”

           Keith’s quiet for a moment, thinking. Shiro slowly strokes up and down his back while he finds his words. 

           “It was a lot more intense than I thought it’d be. I don’t know, something about leaning over you and scratching you just sort of… woke something up in me?” He pauses and chews the inside of his cheek. “It felt kind of… primal.”

           Shiro nods. “It’s a wild rush. But you took such good care of me.”

           Keith brightens. “Yeah?”

           “Mhm. I felt owned and safe and guarded. I like being yours.”

           It makes Keith blush again, but he looks satisfied now. Maybe a little relieved. “I’m glad. I like you being mine.”

           “Then it all works out,” Shiro chirps. Keith laughs and hugs him close.

           “Ooof,” Shiro hears him hiss. Slender fingers traces lines down his back. “You sure this doesn’t hurt?”

           It does sting as Keith rubs over the scratch marks he sees over Shiro’s shoulder, but for the most part it’s pretty negligible. “I don’t think so. It probably looks worse than it is. I mean, I’m not bleeding or anything, right?”

           Keith stiffens. “God, I hope not!”

           Shiro tries to soothe him, but Keith insists on turning him on his stomach and getting a better look at the damage he caused. Shiro lets him settle on his hips and trail gentle, featherlight touches up and down his back, promising as many times as it takes that he isn’t in any pain. 

           “If it makes you feel better, I think I still have some of that salve Coran got at the swap shop.”

           He feels Keith sigh and settle above him. “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” 

           It’s hard to let him go, even if only for the minute it takes to grab the tin off the bathroom counter. Shiro bites back the ridiculous urge to whine and takes stock of himself again. Maybe he’s still feeling the after effects of subbing after all. 

           It’ll be alright, he reminds himself. Keith’s already back in sight and moving to sit behind him again, running a hand over the small of his back like he can tell instinctively what Shiro needs. The moment he feels Keith’s skin on his the lump in Shiro’s throat goes down and he’s able to make himself relax again. 

           “We should cuddle,” he mumbles. 

           “Yeah.” Keith bends to press a soft kiss at the corner of his eye. “As soon as I finish taking care of you.”

           That warms his blood. Shiro nods and settles his head on his arms, listening to the sound of Keith unscrewing the lid to the alien salve. It’s a thick cream that smells vaguely of pears and it works wonders on human skin. Coran gifted it to Shiro to help soothe the edges of his worst scars, but it wasn’t long before they realized it was able to knit together cuts and scrapes as well. 

           It’s warm on Keith’s fingertips when he starts to trace the raised lines on Shiro’s back. Shiro sighs and lets himself feel sleepy from the steady, methodical strokes of Keith’s fingers down his back. Each stroke leaves a gentle tingling feeling in its wake, and after a few minutes the worst of the lingering heat has been sapped from his scratches. 

           Keith closes the lid and keeps a hand on Shiro’s shoulder as he moves to set the tin on the side table. Then he comes back and presses himself to Shiro’s side before pulling the blanket up over the both of them. 

           “Here,” he murmurs, “come lay on me.”

           Shiro hesitates just long enough to say, “I’ll squish you,” but when Keith shakes his head he gives in and quickly shifts to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

           “I can take it,” Keith promises. “Besides, I want to hold you.”

           “That’s good,” Shiro mumbles into his skin, “because I want you to hold me.”

           “I guess we make a good team then.” Keith presses a kiss to his forehead, just under his tuft of bangs. Shiro hums in agreement and lets himself drift off, safe and warm and all Keith’s.

**Author's Note:**

> They spend the next day taking care of each other and being very loving and cute and tending to any needs. Aftercare is important!
> 
> Find me on twitter [@maplmoosemuffin](https://twitter.com/maplmoosemuffin) for an essay on how many Hozier songs are definitely about BDSM. (The answer is at least five).
> 
> I'm also on pillowfort at [MapleMooseMuffin](https://www.pillowfort.io/MapleMooseMuffin).


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